Five Christmases Rodney McKay Was Happy
by Ellex
Summary: As the title says. One chapter to be posted each day.
1. The Christmas His Parents Forgot

Five Christmas Days Rodney McKay was Happy

1) The one his parents forgot

He's still not quite sure how it happened. He'd have thought that Christmas was kind of hard to miss, but they did it anyways. To this day, all he can think is that they simply didn't notice. His father worked, as he did pretty much every holiday. His mother was involved with one of her charities, which seemed to occupy most of her time and attention. That first morning, he tried to tell his mother, but she wouldn't listen. Dad had already left for work by the time young Meredith (who was already trying to get people to call him Rodney) and Jeannie woke up, and Mom bustled them through getting dressed and eating breakfast, and shoved them out the door to catch a school bus that wasn't going to come. He and Jeannie stood there on the sidewalk, lunch money in hand, while their mother got in her car and drove off.

They were latch-key children, unsurprisingly. Meredith got home from school first, then Jeannie. Their parents often didn't come home until late, but there was always a stack of TV dinners in the freezer. This would later lead to Mer's love of bland, institutional food. Dinner was usually his favorite meal of the day, because it was the only peaceful one. Breakfast, on weekdays, was a blurred rush of sugary cereal he didn't actually like, or oatmeal, which he loathed. Lunch at school, as a genius child several years younger than everyone else, was sheer torture.

But dinner was quiet and peaceful and pleasant, just Meredith and Jeannie.

On that strange and confusing Christmas Eve – the first day of a full week off from school – he and Jeannie simply looked at each other, shrugged, and let themselves back into the house. They sat down in front of the TV, turned it on, and watched the morning news shows.

When that changed to daytime soaps, they watched for a little while. But it was boring, so they turned the TV off and went into the kitchen, where Mer made lunch. They had grilled cheese, which was one of the few things he could actually make.

They munched on dill pickles, and when they were done, they carefully washed everything and put it away. At that time, Rodney was still young enough that he and Jeannie often simply did things without having to talk or argue about it. Looking back years later, the adult Rodney would wonder at how little they actually talked and would mistake it for lack of family feeling, forgetting that they hadn't needed to talk. Communication and understanding could be conveyed with a glance, a shrug, a gesture. Words, they had both learned early on, could be weapons, and for a long time they were careful not to wield them against each other.

Mer plugged in the lights on the Christmas tree, and they played quietly in front of it all afternoon. They built a futuristic city out of Legos and Lincoln Logs, and pretended that the little Lego people were Doctor Who and his companions, off on a new adventure through time and space.

When they got hungry, Mer chose two frozen dinners and put them in the oven, and they sat on the floor beside their miniature city to eat. Then they carefully broke down the city and put everything away, and settled in front of the TV in time to watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".

Their parents came home, seemingly still oblivious to the fact that Christmas Eve had arrived, and by unspoken agreement, Jeannie and Meredith said nothing.

Christmas Day dawned bright and early, and neither child was particularly surprised when the whole sequence was repeated. Mer let them back into the house after their mother left.

There were presents under the tree. They had been sitting there for several weeks, in fact. In later years, Rodney would admit that no matter what else happened, there were always Christmas presents. Their parents often gave them boring educational toys, but at least they were there, brightly wrapped and waiting to be opened.

He and Jeannie sat there and opened their presents by the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree. It was a quiet and solemn affair, and when they were done, Mer piled the gifts on their beds while Jeannie gathered up the torn wrapping paper. The rest of the day was pretty much a repeat of the previous day, and so was the rest of the week. Their parents never did notice that the holiday had come and gone without them.

It was one of the best Christmases they'd ever had, and he set the standard of every holiday afterward against it. When Jeannie got married and they fell out, he deliberately tried to forget that memory, feeling bitter and betrayed.

A few years later, when they have mended fences, Rodney's first Christmas gift to his niece Madison is a set of Legos, a set of Lincoln Logs, and Doctor Who DVD's.


	2. Christmas in Massachusetts

2) Christmas in Massachusetts

The year he turned 18, Rodney was a graduate student at MIT, and well on his way to his first PhD. He had a full scholarship, including a small stipend that was just enough to allow him to live off-campus in a tiny studio apartment. In previous years, his parents had insisted on Rodney coming to one or the other parent's home for the holiday break. By that time, they had split and were in the midst of an acrimonious divorce proceeding that would last for several years.

The year he became a legal adult, Rodney flatly refused to visit either parent. He sent a 9-year-old Jeannie a card and as much money as he could scrape together, and told her to go buy something for herself. He unplugged the phone after a screaming match with his mother on Christmas Eve, sat down to a microwaved TV dinner – he never lost his appreciation for those easy, instant meals – and went to bed.

Christmas morning in Cambridge, as seen from Rodney's windows, was a sparkling scene of pristine white snow, crystal clear blue skies, and the multi-colored hues of Christmas lights. He spent a blissfully quiet and peaceful day snuggled up on the sofa under a blanket, his cat curled up beside him. Schrodinger – quickly nicknamed 'Shmoo' – was Rodney's first pet since the dog that had run away less than a week after being given to Rodney for his seventh birthday. Shmoo was his present to himself on his 18th birthday, rescued from an animal shelter and given every luxury Rodney could afford. It was the first time Rodney had ever come home to someone who was glad to see him, and although he would own a number of other cats in years to come, he kept a photo of Shmoo beside his bed for the rest of his life in remembrance of that first experience of unconditional love.

He ate cheap, pre-packaged cookies; perused the latest scientific journals, amusing himself by scribbling sarcastic commentary and corrections in the margins; and watched a few hours of puerile holiday television. Dinner was a grilled cheese, a dill pickle, and a glass of milk: the most comforting meal he knew how to make.

When he was done eating, he opened the only present he'd received that year. It turned out to be a homemade fruitcake from the wife of the head of the physics department at MIT. It clinked when he set it on a plate, so he left it to sit in petrified glory on the kitchen table.

As the sky grew dark, he settled back on the sofa with Shmoo curled up in his lap and watched the twinkle of his neighbors Christmas lights through the frost-rimed window. He let his mind drift through years of daydreams involving the accolades of the world's scientific community being heaped on his shoulders.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and woke the next morning with a crick in his neck from sleeping on the sofa.


	3. Christmas in Siberia

3) Christmas in Siberia

A/N: Edited for corrections to information regarding Russian holidays.

Rodney remembers his time in Russia with a strange mixture of hatred and fondness. Siberia was a god-awful place, cold and barren. The food was often appalling. His apartment was desperately inadequate, with sagging ceilings, rattling radiators that never gave off enough heat, and an old black-and-white TV that only picked up one station. He'd been to Moscow before and loved it, a bustling metropolis where people listened to the latest American pop hits and wore designer jeans while living in near poverty.

Most of his co-workers didn't much like him – he was the interloper, come to tell them everything they were doing wrong, and he made no effort to disabuse them of that notion. The language barrier didn't help, nor did Rodney's lingering resentment over his 'exile'. The administrative staff at the Russian laboratory wasn't much better. Most of them were hold-overs from the days of the Cold War, and despite his repeated insistence that he was Canadian, they repeatedly referred to him as 'that American' in tones that suggested they'd like to find a reason to shoot him.

Christmas and New Year's were a big deal in Siberia. There wasn't, after all, a lot to do in Siberia in the middle of winter, and the celebrations seemed set to last nearly a month, beginning on December 25 through to January 1st, then continuing to Orthodox Christmas on January 7th. He even heard about parties planned for what people were calling "Old New Year" on January 13th. He didn't know what they meant by that, and moreover, didn't want to. If that made him an ethnocentric bigot, so be it. He hadn't wanted to be there in the first place.

By the time December was winding to a close him, Rodney had at least won the grudging respect of the other scientists on the project. The first Christmas parties happened without him, while Rodney worked, alone, in the lab.

Surprisingly, someone actually noticed and took pity on him. Several of his co-workers showed up to haul him to a huge New Year's party where he was plied with vile, homemade vodka that threatened to strip the lining from his esophagus.

Half-drunk and a little maudlin, he asked a pretty woman to dance and let slip to her that he'd wanted to be a concert pianist as a child. She squealed in his ear and dragged him to an elderly and out of tune upright piano sitting neglected in a corner, and exhorted him to play.

He went though every Christmas carol he could remember, then went through them again, then improvised while the drunken group bawled out songs he'd never heard before. He played until his hands were sore and throbbing. The group applauded him, slapped him on the back, gave him yet more of the terrible vodka. For one glorious night, Rodney McKay was the life of the party, everyone's best friend, Mr Popular.

The next morning, however, the pretty woman's husband showed on at Rodney's front door, insisting that his wife was shacked up with Rodney. The noise and bother made Rodney's hangover ratchet up from merely awful to utterly excruciating.

By the time he convinced the guy that wherever his wife was, she wasn't with Rodney, he felt almost ill enough to crawl back into bed. But he dragged himself to the lab, only to find that no one else had bothered to come in. The unexpected quiet time led him to make a breakthrough on the generator project, and within the week, he was on a plane back to the US and Area 51.

He didn't know if things would have been different for him if he'd stayed – if his newly made holiday friends would have lasted even until old New Year's Eve. But he treasured that memory, the feeling of being part of a group for the first time in his life.


	4. Christmas at Area 51

4) Christmas at Area 51

A/N: I can't recall if it's ever mentioned in canon if Rodney and Carson meet in Antarctica or elsewhere. If I'm wrong, well…just consider this a slight AU.

Rodney liked Area 51. The weather was warm and dry, the facilities were excellent, and the cooks at the on-base canteen not only made satisfactorily bland food, but had also been suitably cowed into making sure that they clearly labeled anything with citrus in it and had plenty of alternative dishes. He had a few minions to boss around that were sufficiently in awe of his intellect but not too unbearably stupid.

There were drawbacks, of course. Winter in Nevada could be bone-chillingly cold. Sometimes he had to put up with visiting generals who were only interested in how big a bang he could produce. Sudden requisitions from the SGC of this or that stored item of Ancient or Goa'uld technology interrupted his study of them. The worst disruption came when it was discovered just how much rogue elements of the NID, then the Trust, had infiltrated the place.

By the beginning of that particular December, the fuss and bother had finally settled down, and Rodney was frankly relieved. He been subjected to several nerve-wracking interrogation sessions regarding his loyalties, and he was well and truly sick of the whole fiasco. It didn't help that he and Jeannie had just had a huge argument. He still couldn't grasp what would make her trade her career for a husband and kid. He'd been about to offer her a place at Area 51 (not that he'd tell her that some of the stuff she'd been coming up with was possibly beyond even him) if she'd just sign the damn confidentiality agreements. And where had she gotten this strange antipathy towards military and government run thinktanks? Of course they'd keep hold of all the best stuff. It was the price he paid to get access to incredible alien technology, and he paid it willingly, if not graciously.

He'd spent most of the previous year in rapturous study of one Ancient artifact after another, enamoured of the sheer elegance of their technology, until even Samantha Carter had to acknowledge his superiority in the field. Finally, his second PhD – the one in Engineering – seemed worth the trouble and effort. What he'd learned as theory now became fact, with real and practical applications, before his eyes. It seemed like everything he'd ever wanted.

It wasn't until he opened the Christmas card from Carter that he suddenly felt very alone – and lonely. He wouldn't be seeing Jeannie for the holidays. Their split had been too recent and acrimonious. He remained convinced that she was making the wrong decision, and Rodney McKay never backed down.

His minions had families of their own to spend Christmas with. All Rodney had was an off-base apartment and a cat.

On Christmas Day he tried, on a whim, to cook a ham and pretty much destroyed his kitchen. He ended up in the hospital emergency room close to midnight and was astonished to see Carson Beckett there.

"Doctor McKay?"

Rodney was sitting in the waiting room, holding an icepack to his burned hand, when a familiar accent penetrated the throbbing pain that commanded his attention.

"What are you doing here? Now, Doctor McKay, what have you done to yourself now?"

Grateful to see a familiar and friendly face, Rodney mutely held out his hand. Carson took it gently and examined the deep red welt and the pair of ugly blisters that were swelling up out of his palm.

"This is nothing to fret about. Hold that icepack on it a while longer, and I'll see about getting you some burn salve," Carson told him, returning the hand carefully to Rodney's lap. "Look you, I'm nearly done here. If you can wait a few minutes, I'll take you home. Alright?"

"O-okay," Rodney told him, feeling shaky and near tears. He was exhausted and utterly exasperated with himself and the world, and Carson's kindness was very welcome.

He'd met Carson Beckett in the Area 51 infirmary. Most of the nurses and doctors there had no time for Rodney's frequent visits, but the genial Scottish physician always patiently examined and treated him without any condescension or attitude. He made a point of learning the doctor's name so that he could ask for him specifically. It was months before he found out that Beckett was a renowned geneticist.

He'd asked what Beckett was doing, spending his valuable time in the infirmary treating sprained ankles and soldering burns, and Carson told him, "There's only so many hours a fellow can spend staring at DNA sequences before they start to look like just so many little lines on a piece of film."

Beckett made all the overtures that led to their friendship by making a point of not only joining Rodney at lunch, but making sure he remembered to leave his lab and actually eat lunch, until Rodney got into the habit of meeting him every day. Carson took his jibes about voodoo with humor, gently needled Rodney about his hypochondriac tendencies without ever completely dismissing them, and somehow made himself an important part of Rodney's life without Rodney even noticing.

True to his word, Carson came back with a salve that took away most of the burning sensation, and couple of OTC pain pills that dealt with the rest (completely ignoring Rodney's demand for Tylenol with codeine – then again, the demand had been more to re-establish his wobbly sense of machismo than ay actual desire for it). He drove Rodney home, took one look at the ruined kitchen and the smoke that permeated the apartment, and informed Rodney, in a tone that brooked no argument, that he was staying at Carson's for the next few nights.

Carson, sure enough, had stuffed a full-size Christmas tree into his tiny living room. A fake mantelpiece was crowded with photographs of various men, women and children who bore a strong resemblance to him. While Rodney stared at the happy, smiling faces in the pictures, Carson whipped out a series of containers that seemed to hold a full holiday dinner. Before he knew it, Rodney was sitting in front of a plate full of roast turkey, cranberry sauce, candied yams, and some green bean concoction. There were even soft rolls and butter.

"I made the mistake of telling people at the base that I wasn't going home to see my family this Christmas," Carson explained. "Do you know, I must have received about six invitations to dinner? But I'd volunteered to take the evening shift at the hospital emergency room – they're always short-handed at the holidays – so they all gave me food to take home. Isn't it sweet of them? And I'm thrilled to try an authentic American Christmas dinner. What they don't know," Carson gave him a rare sly grin, "is that my one brother, who is quite well-to-do and lives in the British Virgin Islands, invited the whole clan to his place for the holidays. He and I don't quite get along, so I said 'oh sorry, I really can't get away at the moment, I'll see you all in a couple of months for Mum's birthday'."

Rodney returned his grin, but it slid from his face a moment later. No one, he thought, had inquired about his own holiday plans, and his own inquiries had merely been to establish when his minions would be back at work.

"Rodney? Is your hand paining you?"

"No! No, it's just – thank you." Rodney ducked his head, feeling awkward and trying not to be resentful of the seemingly effortless way Carson could make friends with everyone. "Thanks for – for sharing your dinner with me. For letting me stay."

"Nonsense! There must be enough food here to last a week, and I couldn't let you stay at home. Not on Christmas. Now, tuck in!" Carson pointed a fork at him. "Waste not, want not, my dear old mum always says."

"I'll bet your 'dear old mum' says stuff like 'tomorrow's another day', and 'wherever you go, there you are'," Rodney muttered, peering at Carson out of the corner of his eye. The doctor just smiled at him and took a bite of turkey.

After dinner, they sat in front of the TV with coffee and a huge plate of homemade cookies. Carson put a DVD in the player and explained, "This film has been a tradition in my family since I was a lad. It wouldn't be Christmas without it, you know?"

Rodney just nodded and bit the head off a gingerbread man, prepared to sit some hackneyed holiday film like "It's a Wonderful Life", or "Miracle on 34th Street". But the movie was something else altogether, and he watched in growing fascination as Kay Harker met strange people on the train on his way home for Christmas, as he found the Box of Delights and discovered its wonders, as Maria took a ride in a flying car and defied the villains.

"Wait a minute – that's – that's –" The identity of the actor playing the old man, frustratingly familiar from the start, suddenly burst into Rodney's mind.

"Patrick Troughton, the second Doctor Who. Yes, it is him," Carson answered. "I swear they used the same special effects team, too. But I always think there's something very comforting about those old BBC programs, despite the lack of Hollywood spit and polish. Or maybe, because of it, you know?"

By the time Christmas was saved and the credits rolled, Rodney was feeling very sated and sleepy and content. Carson hauled him up off the sofa so that he could unfold it into a reasonably comfortable bed, and Rodney didn't bother to do more than brush his teeth before slipping under the blankets and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A/N 2: I own a very poor VHS copy of "The Box of Delights", taped off of PBS's "WonderWorks" TV series. It's based on a children's book by John Masefield. Apparently, it was originally a BBC miniseries (1984).

Sadly, it's only available as a Region 2 DVD. The VHS version can only be found used, and it's not cheap. You might try e-mailing BBCAmerica and suggesting that they broadcast it.

Watching it really is a Christmas tradition in my family. I'm sorry to have tempted you with a description of it when it's not readily available. I can, however, tell you that the book it's based on is very good.


	5. Christmas in Atlantis

5) Christmas in Atlantis

A/N: This takes place shortly after 1x10 "The Storm" and 1x11 "The Eye", but before 1x12 "The Defiant One".

Rodney sat heavily in his usual chair at the conference table, cradling his arm carefully. Six days later, it still stung anytime he jarred or bumped it, and now it had begun to itch, as well. It didn't help that his sleep had been consistently interrupted since the storm, both by nightmares and by emergencies requiring his expertise or supervision. His appetite had taken a blow, as well – every bite of food seemed tasteless, and his stomach was almost constantly queasy.

"Hey, McKay, how you doin'?" Sheppard took the chair beside him, looking disgustingly well-rested.

"Fine," he replied shortly. "Where's Elizabeth? Can we get this meeting started already? My time is extremely valuable, you know."

"You never let us forget, McKay," Sheppard grinned.

"And we appreciate every moment you spare for us," Elizabeth joined in from the doorway, followed by Carson and Teyla.

"How are you, Rodney?" Beckett placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged it off irritably.

"I'd be much better if everyone would stop asking me that!" he burst out. "I'm fine, okay? Now can we get down to business?"

He bristled at the meaningful glance the others exchanged over his head, but the Expedition head took her seat and opened her laptop without further comment, and Carson sat on the other side of Rodney.

"Alright then – Teyla, how are the Athosians coming along with rebuilding their settlement on the mainland? Any problems?"

"None at all," Teyla responded. "With the help of your Marines, we have been able to clear the settlement of debris and set up our tents much faster than usual."

"Actually," Sheppard interrupted,"I think Halling and the others are getting a little irritated with our attempts to help. They're old hands at this business."

"And our own people?" Elizabeth asked, turning to the Major.

"A few have had to double up on quarters due to storm damage, but everyone is pitching in to help. I'm working on getting some more living areas opened up. It should only be a few more days. They all understand that securing the city comes first."

"How are the new security plans coming along?" Elizabeth leaned forward.

Sheppard leaned back, dredging up that lazy smirk that no doubt made most of his military superiors want to smack him. "I have a test run scheduled for this afternoon. We weren't prepared for the kind of evacuation the storm forced on us, and we were more concerned about a Wraith incursion through the Gate than a human force. The new IDC codes – both for us and for the Athosians – include the same kind of emergency codes the SGC uses, and a few more. Both our own off-world teams will be able to indicate to Atlantis if they're coming in hot, if they've been forced to give up the code to enemies, if they need reinforcements to come through the Stargate…pretty much everything I could think up with Ford and Teyla's help."

"You didn't bother to ask me?" Rodney was outraged and a little hurt that Sheppard hadn't consulted him.

"I sent you a note about it." The soldier shrugged. "You didn't get back to me, so I figured you were okay with everything."

Anger made him tremble, although that could have been fatigue. "I haven't had time to check my messages lately. I've been too busy actually trying to get this city back in working order so we don't all drown as it sinks back into the ocean!"

That got both everyone's attention. "That's…not likely to happen, is it?" Elizabeth asked worriedly. "You never said –"

"No, no, that's not actually going to happen. But the damage to the city was extensive enough that most of the science division's projects are still on hold while we repair the storm damage. There are places where all we can really do is nail up some boards over broken windows." His arm twinged again, and he tucked it against his chest, cupping his elbow with the other hand. "All the essential stuff should be done by tomorrow. Everything else can wait for our regular city exploration schedule."

"That's good to know, Rodney." She gave him that warm smile that he never had been able to resist. "Maybe after this meeting you should go take a nap? You look tired. If you're having trouble sleeping, maybe you could ask Carson for something to help."

"She's not far wrong, Rodney," Carson said. "You look like something the cat dragged in."

"Thank you so much," he snarled. "It's so nice to be told just how bad I look."

"Moving on," the brisk interruption came from Elizabeth. "What's the status of the infirmary?"

The doctor turned his attention from Rodney, much to his relief. "The Genii made off with a good portion of our stores. Fortunately, I think we can manufacture some of the more common antibiotics ourselves. I also have a list of Athosian remedies and their ingredients, which are mostly plant-based, easily obtainable and quite effective. It's just a matter of making sure there's nothing we'll react badly to."

"Any new injuries?"

"Just the usual: sprains, bruises, cuts and abrasions," Carson replied. "Doctor Morgenstern fell down a flight of stairs and broke her wrist, and Sergeant Stackhouse sliced open his calf on some of the debris out on the West Pier. That, fortunately, is the worst of it."

Elizabeth beamed at him. "That's excellent news! And I have an announcement of my own. In all the excitement, I haven't been keeping track of time on Earth. Christmas is only four days from now."

A startled silence greeted her, and her smile faltered. "I thought…I'd hoped this would be good news."

"I think we're all just a little startled, you know?" Sheppard answered. "I mean, we haven't even had Halloween or Thanksgiving yet."

"I have heard a little about Christmas from some of your people," Teyla said thoughtfully. "I believe it is generally considered a time for celebrations and gift-giving?"

"We should celebrate," Carson said firmly. "We need something to make everyone feel good again."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Elizabeth said. "I realize we have a number of people who celebrate other holidays, but I'm sure everyone would be satisfied with celebrating the first official Atlantis Winter Holiday."

"Never mind the fact that it's currently spring in this hemisphere," Rodney grumbled.

"Don't be such a Christmas curmudgeon, Rodney," Sheppard turned to face him. "This is just the kind of morale booster we need."

"Or an excellent way to remind everyone just how cut off from Earth we are. Go ahead and have your holiday. Just don't expect me to participate." He stood and walked out of the conference room, wincing when his arm bumped against the door as it swiveled open.

Footsteps sounded behind him. "McKay!" he heard Sheppard call, but kept on going.

"C'mon, Rodney, what's wrong?" The Major caught up to him and passed, turning to block his path. "What's wrong with a little Christmas?"

Rodney stopped and closed his eyes, ducking his head so Sheppard wouldn't see the emotions that passed too openly across his face. "Major, I can count the number of Christmas holidays I've actually enjoyed on the fingers of one hand. I have no reason to believe that this trumped up excuse for a party will be any better, especially since we're stuck in another galaxy with no way back to Earth! Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have plenty to do before I can even consider that nap everyone is so eager for me to take."

He brushed past Sheppard and stalked away, half expecting the soldier to call him back. But the call never came, so Rodney kept on going. Somehow, his feet took him to his quarters rather than his lab, and by that time, his exhaustion was so overwhelming that he dropped face down on his bed and fell asleep instantly.

When he awoke, it was dark outside. His mouth was dry and his eyelids were practically glued together, but he felt better than he had in days. After a drink of water and a Powerbar, he undressed, climbed back into bed, and went back to sleep.

That one long, decent night's sleep was a turning point for Rodney. His arm didn't seem quite so tender and sore, the work ahead of him didn't seem quite so overwhelming, and his appetite returned. Sheppard, Carson, and Elizabeth tiptoed around him; Zelenka began intercepting some of the constant demands on his time and attention; and while it was painfully obvious that Elizabeth had informed everyone of the upcoming holiday, it was equally obvious that everyone was trying to prepare for it without involving him.

A tree appeared in the mess hall, and another one in the Gate Room. Handmade ornaments adorned them over the next few days, cobbled together from whatever anyone could dredge up. The Athosians took to the concept with enthusiasm, presenting even more ornaments and decorations. Rodney tried to ignore the arrangements of red spring flowers and green leaves that showed up on the tables in the mess hall, and the pine wreaths that were hung from various balconies. He put his foot down over letting Simpson play Christmas carols on her laptop in the lab, however.

The day before the holiday – quickly dubbed "'We're Still Here' Day", despite Elizabeth's carefully non-denominational "Atlantis Celebration Day" – the first present showed up under the big tree in the Gate Room. It was easily 10 feet tall, looked remarkably like a blue spruce, and Rodney had heard that it took 20 Marines to carry it through the Stargate. The tree in the mess hall, on the other hand, had come from the mainland via Puddlejumper.

Word spread quickly about the present, and by the end of the day, nearly 40 more had joined it, each one wrapped gaily in brightly patterned Athosian cloth, or enclosed in boxes made from scraps of wood or Ancient materials. The first present, however, maintained pride of place on an upended woven basket from M7G-776 (check on this). It was about the size of an 8x11 inch picture frame, an inch thick, wrapped up in blue cloth that looked suspiciously like a science team shirt, and had a little tag that said "Doctor Rodney McKay".

Rodney knew nothing about it. Everyone had seen it, but no one had told him, particularly after his announcement to the entire science division that, while they were free to do whatever they pleased as long as it didn't interfere with their work, he'd appreciate it if they'd all leave him the hell out of it.

The morning of the celebration dawned with clear skies and a bright, warm sun. Windows all over the city were opened to let the crisp ocean breeze pass through and clear out the scent of stagnant water. The pile of presents under the Gate Room tree had grown so big that Elizabeth and Sheppard had ordered them to be moved to the large balcony where they had held that first party, just a few days after arriving in Atlantis.

Rodney deliberately stayed away, not even showing up in the mess hall until nearly lunchtime. He nearly walked right out again when he spotted the group sitting at one of the tables, clearly waiting for him.

"Hey, Rodney!" Sheppard called, and every face in the room swiveled towards him. He walked stiffly and self-consciously to the table, restraining a flinch at the beaming smiles that greeted him. Elizabeth and Teyla were there, as well as Carson, Ford, and Zelenka. The Major shoved a steaming cup of precious coffee into Rodney's hand and guided him into a chair.

A piece of something that looked remarkably like cake was set in front of him. Bemused and a little suspicious, he took a careful bite. The sort of spicy yet chocolatey taste clued him in on the main ingredient.

"Tava bean flour, right?"

"Not half bad, is it? I made sure we saved a piece for you. And here's your present." Sheppard deposited a blue-wrapped bundle in front of Rodney.

Rodney dropped his fork abruptly. "But – I didn't want – and I didn't get you anything – "

Elizabeth grasped his hand and shook it warmly. "You've already given all of us the best present we could possibly have, Rodney. You saved the city for us."

Nods and confirming responses were echoed around the table.

"Open your present, Rodney," Carson urged.

Ford grinned. "Yeah, c'mon, doc!"

He pulled at the cloth with trembling hands. The smooth fabric seemed familiar. "Wait a minute, this – is this one of –"

"It's your shirt, McKay," Sheppard told him. "The one that got ruined when – during the storm."

"But I thought it was thrown away!" Rodney said, bewildered. "I mean – when Carson cleaned my arm…"

"I kept it, Rodney," Beckett interjected. "You know my mother's motto – 'waste not, want not'. I thought I might find a use for the remnant, and it made a perfect wrapping for your present."

"Open your present, Doctor McKay," Teyla said, smiling gently.

He finished unwrapping the object, and spent several minutes just staring at it.

The wooden plaque was intricately carved with geometric patterns echoing the windows of Atlantis, painted in pale blues and greens and golds, just like the city itself. The words "OUR HERO" were repeated in English, Ancient, and Athosian script.

He looked up, speechless, when Sheppard bounced impatiently beside him.

"I got Halling to make it," the Major announced, "and one of the botanists has a paint set that I borrowed."

"But – I don't understand," Rodney said faintly.

"This," Elizabeth pointed at the plaque, "is from all of us, Rodney. We wanted to say thank you for saving our home."

"But I told Kolya – "

"You didn't tell him anything more than you had to tell him to keep yourself safe. You gave me the opportunity to take out him and his men. And then you still managed to save Atlantis from destruction with seconds to spare, after everything that happened to you." Sheppard slung his arm around Rodney's shoulder. "Don't you get it, McKay? That's what everyone's been saying. You're our hero."

He picked up the plaque and placed it in Rodney's hands. "Merry Christmas and Happy 'We're Still Here' Day, Rodney. Now eat your cake."

fin

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has left such enthusiastic and kind reviews for this story. They have made me feel so good. You really make me feel eager to write more!


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